


In Our Bedroom After the War

by prosodiical



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Confessions, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-06 05:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11029818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prosodiical/pseuds/prosodiical
Summary: Theseus drags Newt out for a reconnaissance mission, but their target thinks they're a couple and Newt can't forget what happened, that one night during the war.





	In Our Bedroom After the War

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DachOsmin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DachOsmin/gifts).



"I'm still not sure that you need me here," Newt says, looking around. There are too many people, the smell of alcohol heavy in the air, and he feels stifled and restless in his skin. "I've come to a pub alone before. It's not that odd for someone to do the same."

"You might," Theseus says, "but I wouldn't. And unluckily for us, everyone knows who I am and knows that, too. Here, have a drink."

He presses the glass into Newt's lax hand, and holds Newt's gaze until Newt looks away and downs it in one swallow. The firewhiskey burns his throat, the magical fire tingling his tongue, and when Newt glances back Theseus is watching him, a curious look on his face.

"It isn't all that bad, is it? I mean, we haven't had much time to ourselves since - "

"Hogwarts," Newt says, at the same time as Theseus says, " - the war."

Newt drops his gaze to the bar. Theseus says, "Newt..."

"If this is some attempt at _talking_ about it - " Newt stops himself, biting his tongue. Theseus reaches over, his hand on Newt's elbow, his expression unreadable, and Newt swallows. "You really are meeting someone here?"

"I am," Theseus says. "I wouldn't lie to you, you know."

"Wouldn't you?" Newt asks, and Theseus examines him for a long moment, mouth quirked in a wry smile.

"I never will," he says. "Not again."

Newt can't hold his gaze, and looks down to the bar, stained from the remnants of half-hearted cleaning spells. 

"I'm sorry," Theseus continues, quiet and intent, his hand falling to Newt's knee. "I never really said it, did I?"

"You apologised enough," Newt says, to the line of Theseus's shoulder, the shadow of stubble along his jaw. "And - it was hardly your fault."

"Even so," Theseus says, "I am. I never wanted things like this between us. If talking about it would help..."

Newt pulls a face. "Please, no."

"Well, if you say so." Theseus's smile lightens as he raises his eyebrows. "Now sit pretty for me, won't you? I think I see Yaxley over there by the door."

Newt doesn't recognise the man who sidles up to Theseus after a minute or two. He's a few years older than Theseus, dressed in a similar understated fashion, and his mouth twists when he says, "Scamander."

"Yaxley," Theseus says, easily. "Is this a social call?"

"You know what this is," Yaxley says, and his gaze slides over Theseus to Newt. "And you brought your latest conquest along? What's your lineage? Weasley?"

Too late, Newt manages, "Ah, it's - Prewett."

"This is Newt," Theseus says, faint strain in his voice, and Newt glances at him surreptitiously from beneath his eyelashes. It's worrying to think that he's so obvious, but Newt thinks it might just be the way Theseus is leaning into him, the way his hand tightens on Newt's knee. Or maybe it's just that Theseus looks like Newt only in the broadest of strokes, his hair redder, his jaw more defined; that while Newt has their pureblood mother's look Theseus is the one people call handsome. "And whatever you're thinking, Yaxley, stop it."

"Well," Yaxley says. "If the Auror demands it. I suppose magic is magic, regardless of... taint."

"Magic is magic," Theseus repeats, "and if you'd like to try your hand at a duel - "

"Merlin's beard, no," Yaxley says, with an overdramatic wince. "We're on the same side, aren't we, Scamander?"

"I sincerely hope so," Theseus says. "But what do you think?" He looks relaxed, but Newt can pick out the tension in the press of his fingers on Newt's knee. Newt reaches for it, covering Theseus's hand with his own, and Theseus's next breath comes rock-steady. 

"I think," Yaxley says, deliberate, "that you should come over for dinner. Tonight, if it suits you."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then you'll have to find your own way, Scamander. You're not good enough for a second offer."

Newt can feel the press of Theseus's magic uncoiling, the way he draws it up from under his skin. Theseus has always had a knack for it, pulling his magic up and around, creating a presence enough to deter and intimidate, and now he raises his hand, a wandless spell gathering at his fingertips as he looks over them to Yaxley's face, slowly turning pale. "Would you like to say that again?"

"I don't make the rules," Yaxley says, too quickly. "Scamander, you're making a scene."

"It's only a scene if you're afraid," Theseus says, voice deceptively light, and he slides a sly grin at Newt as he flicks his fingers and the magic springs toward Yaxley's face. Yaxley flinches outright, but it's only hot air as the sparks dissipate an inch from his eyes. Theseus rises smoothly to his feet. "All right, I'll come."

"Bring Prewett, won't you?" Yaxley says, voice uneven even as he tries to regain his composure, pulling out a smooth parchment envelope he passes into Theseus's hand. "My floo address. I'll see you soon."

He leaves into the crowd, and Newt says, "You're a terrible show-off, sometimes," because he doesn't know what else to say. Theseus's expression is odd, unreadable.

"Even if he wants you there, you don't have to come," he says. "You'll probably be leverage, you know that."

"If I bring Pickett along, and my Swooping Evil - "

"Newt," Theseus says. Newt closes his mouth and can't meet his careful gaze. "He's... gotten a certain impression of our relationship. I don't want you to - "

"I can't let you go alone." Newt presses his lips together. "You've brought me here already. If I don't go you'll lose an advantage, at least - what if you're in trouble?"

"I can handle myself," Theseus says, but he seems to be relenting. "If he tries to hurt you..."

"Another wand wouldn't hurt, would it?" Newt suggests, and looks away from Theseus's slight grimace. "I'm sorry. If you think it'd be better if I didn't - "

"No," Theseus says, "no, you're right. I... I should bring someone along - standard Auror procedure, of course. But you..."

Newt can't tell what he's thinking, but he tentatively reaches out, his fingers curling around Theseus's wrist. "You've helped me countless times. If I can be useful - "

"That's not exactly it," Theseus says, an inexplicable look on his face, but it drops to a crooked smile as he sighs and shakes his head. "You're my little brother, looking out for you is my job."

"Then isn't it also mine to look after you?" Newt loosens his grip on Theseus's wrist, but Theseus catches his hand as it falls, entwining their fingers together.

"You know me," he says, "I just don't want to see you in trouble if I can help it."

"You'll be right there," Newt reminds him.

"Which is why I," Theseus says, and sighs. "I suppose it's best if you do come along. I can only imagine they'd still be on the watch for you if you didn't. I hope you're up for continuing the charade a little longer."

Newt has a million things he could say, but he can't give voice to any of them. "Of course," he says, instead. "People tend to see what they want to see, anyway."

"Hm," Theseus says, but on the topic he says no more than that.

They Apparate back to Theseus's place, Newt Side-Alonged. Newt's lease has run out while he's been gone and so he's been staying in Theseus's spare room, his suitcase of creatures laid out carefully by the bed. While Theseus disappears into his room and fusses with his dress, Newt checks on his creatures again, organising timer-charms for food. "I get you all dressed up," Theseus says from the cabin, some time later, "and here you are, ruining all my hard work."

He's smiling, but Newt sheepishly runs a hand through his mussed hair, and bats away his new thunderbird's eager beak. "I thought I'd bring some reinforcements."

"Your Swooping Evil?" Theseus peers around his habitats, stepping across into Newt's manufactured Arizona. "I hope you don't mean this terrifying beast."

"Frank," Newt says, "my terribly rude brother. Theseus, Frank."

"And by terrifying," Theseus says quickly, "I mean lovely. You smell like a hippogriff stable, Newt, you're lucky I laid out another set of robes for you. And you really have to do something with your hair."

"Are we leaving?" Newt says, and smooths down the rumbled fabric of his robes self-consciously as he pulls out his pocketwatch. "Oh - you should have said, we'll be late - "

"Fashionably late," Theseus says, "I want to keep them a little on edge. You remember what I said earlier?"

"Yes." Newt sighs. "I remember."

"It's important, you know. Grindelwald's influence is nothing to sneeze at. And I don't want you in trouble - Merlin knows you get enough from my name alone."

"I know," Newt says, quieter. "Really."

He meets Theseus's eyes for a moment, a sweet warm brown matched by the familiar quirk of his smile. "I brought this on myself," Theseus says, "but you know I just want you safe."

"You tell me often enough," Newt says, and Theseus laughs, amused, as he hooks his hand in Newt's elbow and tugs.

"Yes, all right," he says, "now come on. Fashionably late is one thing, but I don't want Yaxley to think we're not coming at all."

Theseus fusses over Newt's clothes and his hair with an ease borne of long practice, for all that Newt hasn't lived with him for years. "There," he says, as he straightens Newt's robe's collar, and steps back to examine him. Newt peers into the mirror.

"I don't think you've done anything to my hair," he says.

"There's a difference between an inadvertent mess and a purposeful - " Theseus closes his mouth as Newt fails to repress his smile, and gives him a pointed look as he takes a step toward the door. "Yes, all right, you clean up fine. Do you have everything?"

Pickett jumped into Newt's pocket the moment he put on the robe, and his Swooping Evil lies dormant, cocoon-like, in his sleeve. They don't like the Floo system, worse than the speed and sudden stop of Apparition, but Pickett seemed to understand Newt's gentle request for inconspicuous silence. "You don't actually expect a fight, do you?"

"It's hard to say," Theseus admits. "They won't come out wands blazing, but - I'd say check your food, but it might be too rude. Be careful, at least. And since they think - well, I'll keep an eye on things for you, too."

 _Since they think_ , he says, and Newt looks away. "And if things go wrong?"

"We go," Theseus says succintly. "But they won't."

And he seems to be telling the truth, for all the worry he's heaped on Newt. They exit the Floo to Yaxley's house-elf taking their outer robes, where Yaxley greets them, introduces them to a few of his friends, and seats them down at the table. "Sorry about the wait," Theseus says, all ease, as Newt tries not to seem like he's looking for doors. "It's tough getting this one out the door."

Newt can feel his face warm as he slides a disquieted glare Theseus's way, but he manages to twitch a smile in deference to their company. "Prewett, was it?" one of Yaxley's friends says - Prince, Newt thinks. "Scamander, your mother's from that line, isn't she?"

"Yes, we're cousins, distantly," Theseus says, "not that it matters much."

"Of course not," says Prince, "but I wouldn't expect respect of the bloodlines from you."

Theseus tilts his head, eyes glinting dangerously, and Prince nearly yelps as Yaxley elbows him unsubtly. "As I was saying," Yaxley says, "dinner will be served."

Newt keeps quiet, his head down, through the first course. Theseus takes a delicate spoonful of the soup and only a deliberate handful of seconds later taps Newt's knee, while Newt watches him surreptitiously from beneath his eyelashes. Theseus doesn't seem to be out of his element; while he's not sly enough for the shaded talk, faced with his directness they all seem to fall somewhat in line. "A toast, then," Yaxley says, as the pheasant is brought in, so opulent it makes Newt feel somewhat sick.

Theseus tips his glass against Yaxley's own and takes a sip. Newt sees Yaxley's careful stare and he says, "Theseus."

"You have something to say, Prewett?" Yaxley stares at him, and Newt is the first to break his gaze. "What's it about Prewett, Scamander? Is it love?"

"Yes," Theseus says, almost involuntarily, and Newt presses his lips together and rises to his feet. Yaxley tuts; his friends' wands are pointed at Newt lazily over the table. Slowly, as though through molasses, Theseus says, "I didn't taste anything - where did you get Veritaserum? And what did you do to my magic?"

"It's my turn to ask the questions," Yaxley says. "And - really? Does he love you back, Scamander?"

"Not - in exactly the same way," Theseus grits out. Newt examines the three men watching Theseus with fascination, and knows he'll just need a distraction. "Yaxley - "

"Merlin, what is it? Prewett, have you been holding out?" Yaxley peers at Newt, and Newt stares fixedly at the tablecloth, fingers curled tight around his wand. "Scamander, your love life's a mess."

"Get to the point," Newt says, quietly. Yaxley's gaze swings to him and he grins.

"Backbone at last," he says. "Just for you, then, Prewett. Scamander, do you even believe in Grindelwald's philosophy?"

"Grindelwald," Theseus says, "is a murderer and a terrorist - "

"A visionary," Yaxley says, "in these dark times."

" - so, no."

"And you, Prewett? Going to stick by the man who loves you?"

"Would you give me a choice?" Newt says, voice tight. Theseus is suddenly very still. "Or force me at wandpoint?"

"You have a choice," Yaxley says, tone magnanimous. "Stay here, go - what does it matter to me? I will, unfortunately, have to obliviate you of this meeting - and Scamander, of course. You understand."

Perhaps, if Newt was who they thought he was, it would seem a fair deal. Theseus looks at him and Newt looks back as he says, "I'm sorry."

"Taking the deal, then?" Yaxley says. "Scamander - "

It only takes a second of distraction, and Theseus provides one in spades: he kicks out his chair and shoves at the table, sending it toppling with surprising force as he leaps for Yaxley's face, hands curled into fists; Newt's Swooping Evil awakens at the light touch of his magic and does what it's made for, dodging spells and latching onto a wizard's head as Newt disarms one, two, and three. Yaxley and Theseus are brawling on the floor, but Newt's seen enough of Gryffindor house parties to know who has the edge; sure enough, a few seconds later Theseus grabs Yaxley's wand and with a grim smile, snaps it in two.

The Apparation wards are still heavy against Newt's skin, but Theseus grabs a handful of Floo powder and tosses it in the fire. "Expect company," he says, "Aurors will be here soon."

"It isn't illegal to support Grindelwald," Yaxley spits from the floor. "And not when he has the right of it - "

"It is illegal to administer Veritaserum to someone without warning," Theseus says with a grim smile. "Thank you."

Newt takes his sleeve when they step into the Floo together, unsure of the effect of the potion, and Theseus comes out looking much the worse for wear back at his flat. "I'm sorry," he says, "I don't know what they gave me, but I think mixing potions might have made it worse," and Newt shakes his head and helps him over to the couch.

"It's all right. Should I Floo anyone?"

"No. They'll take my word for it," Theseus says, falling back to stare blankly at the ceiling. "Newt. Ask me a question."

Newt says, "You said - no. Do you love me?"

"Of course I do," Theseus says, but it comes too slow. "Newt, what - "

"Do you - do you blame me, for what happened?" Newt says, in a rush. "I - I know I wasn't quite in my right mind, but you started avoiding me - no, I started avoiding you - "

"It was a mess," Theseus says, quietly. "But no, of course I never blamed you. You were potioned, it was an awful situation all around - "

"Was it - was it really so bad?" Newt says, and then: "No, I'm sorry - "

"No," Theseus says, like it's dragged out of him, and then pulls himself up to his elbows, eyebrows furrowed, gaze piercing. "You." He studies Newt like he's a puzzle, as though all their years of knowing each other is nothing in the face of this new mistake. "Newt."

"I'm sorry," Newt says. "I'll see you - later. Tomorrow."

"No, don't leave," Theseus says. "We'll end up not talking about it for years while you avoid me at Christmas, and birthdays, and whenever Mum calls us back for hippogriff naming day. Newt - did you - I always thought you couldn't stand the sight of me for it. I practically forced you - "

"I kissed you," Newt says, wretchedly. "If anything - "

"No," Theseus says. "No. I can't say I didn't regret it - you stopped talking to me, I should have killed that arsehole before he laid a hand on you, let alone do what he did, I shouldn't have let anything go so far and I shouldn't have lied when you asked me and I said it was fine, we could just forget about it and go on like we were - " He stops himself, and smiles, slightly wry. "You can tell I'm telling the truth because I can't shut up."

"You regret it," Newt says, and Theseus watches him: careful, gently curious, and perhaps something more.

"Newt," he says, "come here."

Newt steps toward him, because he's primed to do what Theseus wants with that tone of voice, because for all his heart is pounding he's not sure it's fear. "I," Newt says, and Theseus looks at him like he can read every thought in Newt's head, not that he's ever needed magic to do it.

"I regretted it," Theseus says. "I still mostly do. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't do it again - with some changes - or that I didn't enjoy it at all, which I did. Too much." There's a startling honesty in his gaze when he takes Newt's hand. "And it was wrong of me, but if I could have the chance..."

Newt says, quietly, "I - I wanted you then, and I did and I do - I'm sorry - "

He has a million apologies stuck behind his teeth, a thousand reasons why he should leave and never see Theseus again. But Theseus's smile draws Newt in, his bright unselfconscious pleasure, and then Theseus kisses him, and all the things he wanted to say seem pointless after all.

"I've dreamed about kissing you again," Theseus says, like a secret shared. His nose is pressed against Newt's cheek, his mouth endlessly tempting, and Newt does kiss him, again and again, until they're both breathless with it.

"Lie to me," he says, and Theseus laughs.

"The sky is - no, not yet," he says. "And I won't. I promise."


End file.
